
Class jv^ 

Book~ J~l 5 ?7 <3 

GopightN . 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 




She stood as proudly poised as a young princess. — Frontispiece. 



-. I 



The Little Red Doe 



By 
Chauncey y. Hawkins 

Author of " Ned Brewster s Bear Hunt " 



With Illustrations by 
Charles Copeland 



n on-kef erTI 




aWYAD-Q3S 



Boston 

Little, Brown, and Company 

1915 






<H\* 



Copyright, 1915, 
By Little, Brown, and Company. 



All rights reserved 
Published, September, 1915 



Setup and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co., Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 
Presswork by S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, Mass., U. S.A. 



$4* 



SEP PS 19/5 

• mrmi?39 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

She stood as proudly poised as a young 

Princess .... Frontispiece 

She found herself drawn by some bewilder- 
ing power 10 

He saw her, stopped for a minute and gazed 

in surprise 34 

He crept cautiously behind a heavy spruce 61 

Old Bill fired while the stag was still in the 

act of turning 76 - 

We must take her out and care for her 

wounds 101 



[v] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

CHAPTER I 

The little red doe of Shinn Pond was 
just a year and two months old to the 
day when she ceased following the trail 
with her mother. Why, she scarcely 
knew. Possibly it was because the 
mother had given birth to two spotted 
fawns, and the troublesome little things 
were always in the way of the frisky 
red doe when she wanted to run down 
the hill. It might have been because 
the mother gave all of her attention 
to the fawns, and aroused the jealousy 
of the yearling. 

[1] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

Whatever the reason may have been, 
one warm June day, when the leaves 
were young on the trees and browsing 
was good, she wandered from the trail, 
ran over the ridge, waded a river, and 
climbed a hard-wood range, where the 
undergrowth was thick and the fresh 
buds were abundant. When the night 
came, she was too far away to return, 
and the next morning she had for- 
gotten all about her mother. 

The air was so fresh and life-giving 
that she ran and kicked up her heels in 
play, jumped lightly over logs, and felt a 
strange sense of freedom. She was glad 
to be away from the troublesome little 
fawns and be alone, feeling that the great 
woods belonged to her, that she could go 
where she desired and do what she chose. 

[2] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

She wondered if she were really alone. 
It seemed too good to be true. She 
stood for a minute looking about the 
woods to see that no creature was 
watching her, and strained her big ears 
to make sure that no man was tramp- 
ing down the trail; then she bounded 
away, her white tail erect and her head 
held high. Freedom was expressed in 
the very ease and grace of her move- 
ments as she ran to the top of a knoll 
where she could look up and down the 
ridge. There was not a creature of 
any kind in sight, not even a scolding 
red squirrel or a chattering jay. For 
a minute she stood as proudly poised 
as a young princess, then she lifted 
her tail again, threw her head in the air, 
and rushed wildly down the slope. It 

[3] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

was a new experience. She had never 
felt anything like it, and she could not 
restrain herself in her wild glee. 

It was nearly noon before she saw a 
sign of life. She had spent the entire 
morning nibbling the new-born buds 
and playing without anything to dis- 
turb her peace of mind. Then her keen 
eyes caught sight of a slight motion in 
some brush, a thick growth of dogwood. 
Instantly she became alert and threw 
her ears forward to catch any sound that 
might tell of danger. Every nerve was 
tense. Her big eyes w r ere fixed on the spot 
where she had seen the movement. Her 
nostrils were enlarged while she sniffed 
the air to detect any telltale scent. 

How disgusted she was when she saw 
an old porcupine walk from the brush! 

[4] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

She felt like rushing on him and giving 
him a sharp rap with her hoof for dis- 
turbing her play, but she remembered 
what she had been taught about his 
quills. She watched the awkward crea- 
ture for a minute; then she bounded 
toward him as though she intended to 
trample out his life, stopped just in 
front of him, gave a loud, angry snort, 
and then jumped over him. The slug- 
gish creature thought his end had come 
and quickly rolled himself into a ball, 
every quill erect, ready to pierce the 
deer's feet as they came down on his 
back. The little red doe seemed to 
think that she had played a good joke 
on him, and to add to his discomfort she 
pawed dirt and leaves over him until 
he was almost hidden from sight. 

[5] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

The remainder of the day there was 
nothing to disturb her, and she played 
so hard and so continuously that she 
grew tired. When the sun was low 
and the shadows were growing long 
over the ridge, she lay down to rest. 
In a few minutes her flesh began to 
burn. The midges, tiny little flies so 
small that the Indians call them "no- 
see-'ems", had risen from the ground 
in millions, and were boring through 
her tender skin. She jumped to her 
feet and shook herself violently, but it 
brought her no relief. She poked them 
with her nose and rubbed her sides with 
her hind feet, but the more she disturbed 
the bloodthirsty creatures, the more 
they seemed to bite. In sheer despera- 
tion she raced down the hill and tore 

[6] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

through the brush, rubbing herself against 
the low bushes as she rushed along. 

Still she found no relief. Her sensitive 
nostrils caught the scent of fresh water, 
which told her that a lake was near at 
hand. She redoubled her speed and, find- 
ing a trail that led through a cedar 
swamp, she followed it for nearly half a 
mile. Suddenly she plunged into a large 
open space, nearly crazed from her torture, 
and there saw the lake spread before her. 

She stopped for a minute to be sure 
no man was prowling about with gun 
or canoe, but all was silent. At the 
farther end of the lake she saw a small 
column of smoke rising straight into the 
calm evening air; probably it was from 
a camp fire, but it was so far away that 
no danger could possibly come from it. 

[7] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

With cautious steps she slipped down 
through the tall grass and waded into 
the cold water. The polliwogs darted 
from beneath her feet, and frogs, dis- 
turbed by her approach, ceased their 
croaking. Gradually the water rose 
about her burning body, drowning the 
millions of pests. The pain ceased, and 
a delightful sensation of coolness made 
her forget her discomfort. 

Then she discovered that a tender 
grass grew along the edge of the lake. 
It had the sweetest flavor she had ever 
tasted and, relieved from the flies, she 
forgot all her troubles as she nibbled 
the, sweet, juicy blades. 

Suddenly she saw a light moving along 
the shore. It looked like a big moon 
rolling silently over the surface of the 

[8] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

lake. It would flash over the trees and 
then creep along the edge of the water, 
revealing sand beaches, fallen logs, and 
sedges. She had never seen anything 
quite so fascinating. She walked down 
to the shore to see what it was. There 
was not a sound anywhere except the 
hooting of an owl and the croaking of 
the green frogs singing their love songs. 
The light flashed into her eyes and almost 
blinded her. At first it was such a 
shock that it made her jump. She 
started to run, but the noise she made 
as she rushed through the water only 
added to her fright. She squatted down, 
thinking that she might hide herself, but 
the water was too shallow. 

The strange light crept nearer; it 
grew more tense. She gazed at it for 

[9] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

a few seconds, and then the blackness 
about her became more dense. All she 
could see was that stream of light. 
She could not keep her eyes away from 
it; it charmed her as the snakes are 
said to charm the birds. She found 
herself walking toward it, drawn by 
some bewildering power. 

Then came a deafening sound, a 
flash, and the little red doe was knocked 
down in the water. A piercing pain 
shot through her body, and she jumped 
to her feet, staggered, and fell. She 
was blinded and could not see where 
to go, but, staggering up again on 
three legs, she rushed from the light. 
Some logs were in her way, and she 
tumbled over them, falling headfirst into 
the mud. 

[10] 




She found herself drawn by some bewildering power. — Page 10. 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

Then her ear caught the voices of 
men, a sound that struck terror to her 
heart. 

''You have only wounded her. Fire 
again or you will lose her." 

Another deafening sound broke the 
forest stillness, and a dull thud told her 
that something had struck the log over 
which she had fallen. 

She struggled to her feet again and 
rushed toward the shore. Fortunately 
she found a trail free from fallen trees 
and brush, and she hobbled along. But 
the pain was so intense that it made 
her sick. She felt something warm run- 
ning down her side ; then she grew weak ; 
her body swayed, and she lay down. 

There was not a sound. The light 
moved along, and she found herself 
[11] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

alone, lying in a pool of warm blood, 
everything swimming before her eyes, 
and her brain growing dizzy. 

The next morning the little doe was 
stiff and lame. She tried to rise to her 
feet, but her shoulder was so sore that 
she sank back to the ground. Her 
mouth was dry, her tongue parched. 
She was famishing for water, yet she 
dared not go to the lake. She did not 
feel able to walk that distance, and 
she did not know where the men might 
be in hiding. She drank the dew on 
the bushes that were within her reach, 
but there was only enough to make 
her thirst for more. The sun rose over 
the hills, and the hot rays soon found 
their way to her fevered body, adding 
to her distress. 

[12] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

She caught a strange noise, a measured 
sound like some huge animal wading 
through the water. She struggled once 
more to her feet and, looking over the 
lake, she saw a canoe pointing directly 
toward her. In each end of it a man 
was vigorously working at a paddle. 
They were coming to see the result of 
their hunt during the night. 

The little red doe knew that she must 
run. It was the only chance she had 
for life. 

While the men were still some dis- 
tance from the shore, she summoned 
all her energy and hobbled up the trail, 
stumbling over logs and roots, plunging 
through miry swamps and over hills. 
Every step caused fresh pains to dart 
through her body. She could feel the 
[13] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

broken bones sawing her flesh as her 
leg swung back and forth. Still she 
struggled on until she came to a thick 
growth of alders, through w T hich flowed 
a clear mountain brook. The ground 
was covered with moss and leaves of 
creeping plants, and the little sufferer, 
too sick to travel farther, lay down to 
rest. 

Anxiously she waited to see if the men 
were following her, but no sound came 
from their pursuing feet. She drank 
of the cold water until her thirst was 
quenched. She ate some of the moss 
and, lifting her head, she browsed on the 
tender buds and leaves which she could 
reach without moving. 

For three days she did not stir. The 
flies bored into her flesh until the exposed 
[14] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

side of her body was almost as raw as 
the torn flesh about her ugly wound. 
Still, instinct told her that she must 
remain quiet. 

How she longed for her mother ! Yet 
no creature came near to give her food ; 
not even a porcupine wandered along 
the brook to comfort her. All was still, 
— a vacant, friendless world, with no 
one to assist, not even to give her a 
few fresh leaves to satisfy her hunger. 

Every day she felt herself growing 
weaker. The food within her reach was 
becoming scarce, and her body was a 
mass of sores from the constant biting 
of the flies. 

But the greatest of all her troubles 
lay in the future. It was the fattening 
time for the wild creatures, when they 
[15] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

were preparing for the long, cold winter. 
She could see great stags wandering 
over the range, choosing the best feeding 
grounds. Each one that passed showed 
that the thick layers of fat were already 
forming over his sides, hiding his ribs 
and preparing him against the days to 
come. 

The little red doe became more and 
more like a skeleton. Her bones were 
slow in knitting, and even after she was 
able to walk, her shoulder was so weak 
that she could only hobble slowly over 
the hills. 

It was August before she could run ; 
even then she had difficulty in jumping 
the logs, and she had to be careful not 
to enter the boggy marshes, as she had 
to work too hard for her freedom once 
[16] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

she was in the mud. She should already 
have been sleek and fat to resist the 
frosts, but her shoulder was still weak, 
and she had not more than half the 
weight she should have carried. 



[17] 



CHAPTER II 

Old Bill Davies lived for eleven months 
of the year in a log cabin built on a 
range several miles south of Shinn Pond. 
The twelfth month he usually passed 
in Patten, the trading point for all 
lumbermen and trappers over a wide 
territory in Penobscot County, Maine. 
Of this month, usually June, he gave 
about three hours in exchanging greet- 
ings with his few acquaintances in the 
village, but the remainder of the time 
he passed in a state of beastly intoxica- 
tion, when his brain was too stupid to 
recognize either friend or foe. This 
continued until his money was all spent, 
[18] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

and then, going in debt for flour and 
salt and tea, he would start again for 
the woods, where he would remain for 
another eleven months. 

It was hinted about Patten that Bill 
had come from one of the aristocratic 
old families of Bangor, but that the 
disappointment of an early love affair 
had driven him to the woods, where 
he had tried to bury his troubles in the 
vast solitude. Some declared that he 
was the son of one of Bangor's most 
famous sea captains, a man who had 
traded around the world and had made 
a fortune, the greater part of which had 
been offered to Bill if he would return to 
the city and care for his father's estate. 
But Bill had spurned wealth and had 
preferred to live his lonely life, nursing 
[19] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

in the stillness of the vast forest the 
memory of his beloved. Others, more 
skeptical, said that the old trapper had 
committed murder and had gone to the 
woods when they were an unfrequented 
wilderness to escape justice. Whatever 
may have been the history of his early 
life, all were agreed that when Bill was 
first seen in Patten, he was a young man, 
well dressed, clean-shaven, and evidently 
from the city. They were further agreed 
that since that day a razor had never 
touched his face, and that, with the 
exception of the one month spent in 
Patten, he had lived alone, shunning 
the companionship of men, even re- 
fusing to stop for conversation with 
hunters whom he met in the woods. 
He had lived forty years in one cabin, 
[20] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

— a small, dirty log shack he had built 
with his own hands, trapping through 
the winter, and occasionally gathering 
gum from the fir balsam. Nothing had 
shared his company, not even a cat, ex- 
cept during the last half dozen years. 
One day a big hound, shaggy and un- 
couth as Bill himself, had come to his 
camp, and Bill had kept him, not because 
he cared for the dog's friendship, but 
because the deer were becoming scarce, 
and Bill felt that the hound would make 
easier the task of securing fresh meat. 
October opened with a heavy fall of 
snow, huge, dry flakes that covered the 
ground and clung to the spruce and pine, 
transforming the woods into a veritable 
fairyland. The bushes were a network 
of the finest white lace of every con- 
[21] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

ceivable pattern, so delicate that the 
least breath of wind would tear it into 
shreds. The long, drooping limbs of 
the pines sparkled with millions of dia- 
monds, each reflecting the brilliance of 
the sun that was just rising over the hills 
as old Bill stood in the door of his cabin, 
looking dow T n the range. 

But Bill saw nothing of the beauty 
that was all about him. If there had 
ever been any poetry in his soul, it had 
long since been lost. He had left only 
prose and that not noble prose, but such 
as belongs to the butcher's slaughter- 
house. If he had once experienced the 
tenderness of love, now he thought only 
of murder, — the slaying of the deer 
and the moose for his food, and the 
beaver, the mink, and the otter for their 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

furs which might be exchanged for money 
to make possible another month of de- 
bauchery. 

As he stood in the door of the cabin, 
looking down the hill, he heard the 
report of a rifle echoing from the white 
walls of Mount Chase, announcing that 
the hunting season had opened and 
that men were abroad, tracking the deer. 
The mongrel hound also heard the shot ; 
he stretched himself after his long sleep 
behind the hot stove, walked to the 
door, looked about for a minute, and 
then lifted his head, opened his big 
mouth, and gave a loud howl, as though 
he scented game from afar. 

The little red doe also heard the re- 
port of the gun. It made her think of 
that terrible night on the lake w T hen she 
[23] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

had been knocked into the water, and 
her shoulder had been broken. The 
snow had come too early for her. She 
was still lean, with no fur to protect her 
from the piercing cold. She stood under 
a big spruce, shivering, the frost penetrat- 
ing her thin coat and increasing her 
anxiety concerning the coming winter. 
When she heard the roar of the rifle, 
the very sound made her tremble. She 
plunged down the range to the great 
cedar swamp, — a growth so dense that 
few men would think of entering it, — 
that she might hide herself from the 
danger. 

It was a lonely spot, without even a 
track to tell of the passing of a living 
creature. The deer avoided it as long 
as possible, for it contained no food 

[24] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

except the bitter leaves of the cedars, 
the last bit of green to be eaten by the 
wild beasts. They preferred to remain 
on the open, hard-wood ranges, where 
they could find moss, and paw down 
through the snow for nuts or the green 
twigs of creeping plants, trusting to 
their keen senses and their swift legs 
to escape the hunter. They would take 
to the swamp only when the snow was 
so deep that they could not dig through 
it, or when some gunner pressed them 
so hard that they must plunge into the 
tangle where he could not follow. 

But the shoulder of the little red doe 
was so stiff that she could not run swiftly, 
and she was too weak to use her energy 
digging through the snow for food. She 
dared not trust herself on the open ridges, 
[25] 



THE LIT.TLE RED DOE 

and, terror stricken by the noise of the 
rifles, which now came from every direc- 
tion, she chose the thickest part of the 
matted growth of low-spreading cedars, 
and hid herself where she thought no 
man could find her. 

That night snow fell again; at first, 
the great flakes came tumbling lazily 
through the still air, as though they 
would gently place a covering over the 
cold creatures. Then the wind arose, 
whipping the snow from the branches 
and gradually increasing in fury until 
it drove the icy crystals into the face 
of the little red doe, and forced her to 
seek shelter still deeper within the 
thicket. 

For three days the storm continued, 
the wind howling through the frozen 
[26] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

trees, causing them to crack and snap. 
The drifts piled deeper and deeper, 
until they were so high that the little 
red doe could not look over them. She 
could see nothing except the sky over- 
head and the small space she had 
trampled down as she had moved about 
in a circle to keep from freezing. It 
seemed as though all the snow from the 
mountain had been blown into the swamp 
to make the little doe a prisoner. 

It was the fourth night before the 
storm broke, and the cold full moon 
came out and looked down on the white 
world. Every bush had been buried 
beneath the snow, and the trunks and 
branches of the cedars were so encased 
that there was scarcely a touch of color 
to be seen anywhere. The air had a 
[27] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

bitter sting in it, and the frost was busy 
sharpening his teeth to bite harder as 
the hours passed. The little red doe 
ran around in her small circle as fast as 
her lame shoulder would permit, a handi- 
cap that made it difficult for her to 
turn the sharp curves. Twice she went 
with such speed that she fell into the 
deep snow, and she had to struggle 
hard to free herself. Then she would 
rest for a few minutes until she felt 
that she was freezing, when she would 
start again, alternately walking and 
running to keep her blood in circulation. 
The little doe had already eaten every 
twig within her reach. She had even 
stood on her hind feet to nibble those 
high up on the trees, and had picked 
them so clean of leaves that none re- 
[28] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

mained with which she could satisfy 
her hunger. 

After a hard struggle for life, it seemed 
that at last she must lie down and die 
of starvation. The snow was so deep 
that she could not break a path through 
it. She had tried several times, but 
she found that the attempts only ex- 
hausted her strength and did not bring 
food any nearer. 

She had almost lost her courage, and 
was standing with her head drooping 
and her back humped, shivering with 
cold, when she heard the deep-throated 
baying of a dog. At first the sound 
was far away on the range; then it 
came nearer and nearer, evidently lead- 
ing directly for the marsh. Then there 
echoed through the woods the report of 
[29] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

a rifle, a sound that struck terror to her 
heart. The hound seemed to take new 
courage from the report of the gun, and he 
howled louder, coming closer every minute. 

The little red doe crawled under the 
cedars, trying to conceal herself in the 
shadows. There was no trail running to 
her hiding-place, no scent on the snow to 
guide the dog, and she hoped that if he 
entered the marsh, he would not find her. 

Then she heard the crashing of brush, 
the sound of some animal struggling 
through the deep snow, its heavy breath- 
ing indicating that it was being hard 
pressed by a foe. It would plunge for- 
ward; then, as though exhausted, it 
would stop to rest ; again it would renew 
its efforts to break its way through the 
deep drifts. The dog was still howling, 
[30] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

making the hills echo with his deep 
voice. As he came closer, the creature 
in the snow increased its struggles. 

The little red doe wished that she 
might see what the frightened animal 
was, but the snow banks were too high. 
She must be content to crouch lower 
in the shadows, hoping that nothing 
would find her. 

Then, to her surprise, she saw a 
great stag break through the snow and 
plunge into her yard. The poor crea- 
ture was nearly exhausted. He stood 
with his legs spread as though trying to 
brace himself that he might not fall. 
His great, antler-crowned head drooped 
until it nearly touched the snow, while 
clouds of his hot breath steamed in the 
crisp, frosty air. Blood trickled down 
[31] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

his neck, leaving crimson patches on 
the white floor. 

The little red doe was so frightened 
that she did not dare to move. The 
stag might want her yard, and the sharp 
points of his huge antlers could soon 
put an end to her life. If he should 
undertake to drive her away, she could 
not escape through the snow, and she 
could not resist his great strength. 

The stag slowly recovered himself, 
and finally he lifted his head, turned 
his big ears forward, and listened. The 
hound had ceased to bay. The winter 
stillness had settled again over the for- 
est, a hush broken only by the occa- 
sional bursting of the trunks of the big 
trees by the frost, and the crackling of 
the ice on the branches. He lowered 
[32] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

his head again and was just about to 
lie down, when he seemed to become 
conscious that he was not alone. He 
showed signs of nervousness, quickly 
raised his head, and looked around. 

The little red doe was quivering with 
fright, not daring to move for fear she 
would be discovered. 

Then the stag saw her dim gray out- 
line in the shadows. His mane bristled, 
for it was the season when all the stags 
are sworn enemies, when each one feels 
himself the sole monarch of the woods, 
and is ready to fight until death to 
maintain his right. Though weary 
from his long chase, his neck tingling 
from the flesh wound inflicted by the 
rifle ball, the noble animal, who had 
never been defeated in any conflict, 
[33] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

walked slowly, with head down, his 
eyes snapping with rage, toward the 
creature partly concealed in the brush. 
He would have tipped the scales over 
two hundred pounds, and his great 
sides heaved as he snorted in defiance. 
The head of the little red doe had been 
concealed in the brush and, as she heard 
the stag coming, she turned as though 
she would plead for mercy. He saw 
her, stopped for a minute, and gazed 
in surprise. His mane gradually lowered, 
and his head was raised, while a tender- 
ness came into his eyes. He walked 
slowly toward her, reached out his long 
nose, and smelled her, — the wild crea- 
ture's caress. Then he turned back to 
the open yard as though he would stand 
guard and protect her from danger. 
[34] 




He saw her, stopped for a minute, and gazed in surprise. 

— Page 3^. 



CHAPTER III 

The little red doe had felt very much 
alone in what seemed to her a cold, 
friendless world. Ever since she had 
left her mother, things had gone against 
her. She had seen only one day of 
real enjoyment, — the first day she had 
become conscious of her unrestrained 
freedom. All other days had been filled 
with either suffering or anxiety, and 
worst of all, with humiliation over her 
weakness. 

Some strange stirring in her heart 

had told her that it was the love-making 

time for all the does on the ranges. 

Indeed, she had seen great stags fol- 

[35] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

lowing the does, coquetting, trying to 
show their peculiar charms to the eyes 
of the shy creatures, even meeting in 
fierce combat with rival stags. But 
none had ever followed her; none even 
saw her. She had remained screened 
by the thick brush, hiding her shabby 
fur, her lean, scrawny body, and her 
stiff shoulder. More than once, when 
she had seen a stag trotting through 
the woods, evidently in search of a 
mate, she had slipped quietly away 
and hidden herself, that she might not 
be discovered. 

The constant sense of her weakness, 
the feeling that she was not so beautiful 
as the other does, that the proud stags 
would scorn her, had left a greater mark 
upon her general appearance than even 
[36] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

the physical suffering she had borne. 
She was shy, retiring, fearful of the 
gaze of a stag's eyes, and many times 
when she might have had the joy of 
companionship she had crept away and 
lived alone. 

But now she had been kissed, yes, 
by the monarch of all the region about 
Shinn Pond, the very stag all the does 
admired, the one any doe would have 
gladly accepted. He had kissed her 
at the very time when she was the least 
attractive. Possibly he had seen her 
helpless state and had only meant to 
assure her that he would do her no 
harm; possibly he was just a strong, 
domineering stag, and took advantage 
of her weakness; possibly it was just 
a passing act of friendliness that he was 
[37] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

glad to show when they were both in 
danger. 

The little red doe did not know what 
to think or how to act. Of one thing 
she was certain: she had been kissed, 
and it had awakened in her a new life, 
a strange set of feelings which had never 
come to her before. Her heart was beat- 
ing fast, and her legs trembled. She was 
ashamed of her weakness, fearing that 
the keen eyes of the stag would detect it. 
Still she could not control herself. 

Would the kingly stag return to caress 
her again, or had he seen her unattrac- 
tive form and left her in scorn? The 
little red doe was bewildered, confused. 
Though she stood where she could watch 
every move he made, she could detect 
no sign of nervousness about him. He 
[38] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

stood in an easy, lazy attitude, as though 
he might be dreaming, but there was no 
indication that he thought of running 
away. He seemed to be quite con- 
tented. Hour after hour passed, but 
he did not even look in her direction. 
To add to her keen discomfort, two 
little chickadees, in their heavy winter 
coats, played through the adjoining trees, 
twittering and chirping as though they 
were the happiest creatures in the whole 
world, each trying to increase the joy 
of the other. Two noisy jays shrieked 
and flitted about among the branches, 
glad that the storm had ceased, and that 
the sun was shining again. Every 
creature seemed well satisfied, each know- 
ing the delight of happy companionship 
except the lonely little doe. 
[39] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

She had nearly lost hope when she 
saw the stag slowly lift his head and turn 
his great, muscular neck until his two 
big eyes were staring directly at her. 
Thump, thump, thump, in quick suc- 
cession went her heart, beating so fast 
that she could scarcely get her breath. 
The fatal hour had come. She felt 
sure of it. Was he preparing to run 
away and leave her alone? Would he 
walk toward her and give her another 
kiss? She tried to summon all her 
strength that she might appear as grace- 
ful as possible, swelled out her sides 
that she might not seem so lean, and 
snapped her eyes that they might look 
more brilliant. But her attempt only 
made her more awkward, made her feel 
more helpless, and caused her to turn 
[40] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

away with a sting of humiliation to 
hide in the thicker brush. 

It was a movement that quickly 
brought the stag to his senses. In a 
second he was all animation, alert and 
aggressive. He rushed toward the little 
doe, knocking snow from the over- 
hanging branches with his big antlers, 
and rattling the bushes until he caused 
a red squirrel to scamper away, chatter- 
ing and scolding for being disturbed. 
The chickadees flew toward the hard- 
wood ridge, and the jays shrieked as 
they darted over the marsh. 

The stag reached out his nose and 
rubbed it over the side of the little red 
doe, giving her a long kiss that made 
a chill run through her body. She 
crouched lower, her whole frame tremb- 
[41] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

ling. She wished that she might bury 
herself in the snow and sink out of 
sight, — anything to hide her weakness. 

To gain relief, she jumped from the 
brush into the open yard and trotted 
around the well-beaten path, an exercise 
that sent the blood coursing again 
through her veins and seemed to give 
her more self-control. She would have 
plunged into the snow and galloped 
through the marsh, but it was too deep, 
and there was no path that she could 
follow. 

The proud stag seemed to feel that 
she was unlike any doe he had ever 
met. Others had always welcomed his 
advances. This little creature was the 
first to defy him, the first that had tried 
to run away, behavior that pricked his 
[42] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

pride and made him more determined 
in his wooing. 

She stood with her head erect, her eyes 
flashing with what seemed to him con- 
tempt, her mane bristling a challenge, as 
though she would enter into mortal 
combat if he dared to touch her again. 

No creature ever looked so beautiful 
in his eyes as this frail doe as she stood 
broadside. Her very attitude seemed 
to him grace incarnate. He never once 
thought of her stiff shoulder; seemed 
not to observe her lean body, or her 
thin, ragged dress. He even forgot his 
wounded neck and the dog that had 
pressed so closely on his tracks. His 
whole body burned with a wild passion 
that made him forget all the past, made 
him think only of the present. He 
[43] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

shook his large antlers, stood for a 
moment with every muscle in his body 
tense, and his eyes fairly flashing fire. 
Then, with kingly steps, he walked 
slowly, but with great dignity, toward 
the little doe, until he was within a few 
feet of her. There he stopped, as though 
he did not dare to thrust himself any 
farther into her charmed circle until 
he was invited. His hot breath steamed 
on the frosty air, his nostrils flared wide 
with his labored breathing, and his heart 
beat so hard that his body vibrated. 

The little doe did not move, except 
to hump her back more fiercely as he 
approached and present an attitude of 
defiance. 

For more than an hour they stood, 
alternately gazing at each other and then 
[44] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

turning their eyes away indifferently, 
as though unconscious of each other's 
presence. 

Gradually the back of the little doe 
fell to its normal position. She assumed 
a more friendly bearing. What was in 
her heart began to master her. She 
could not withstand his big eyes, his 
pleading gaze, and she turned slowly 
and walked toward him. He took a 
step forward, then reached out his nose 
until it touched her face. The battle 
was won. Every sign of opposition 
vanished ; the little red doe surren- 
dered. 



[45] 



CHAPTER IV 

It was the most severe winter in the 
memory of the oldest trappers and 
lumbermen about Shinn Pond. Many 
evenings were spent about the huge 
iron stove in the Shinn Pond House by 
men who had lived their lives in those 
woods, discussing the low temperatures 
and deep snows of other years ; but the 
conversation always ended with the ad- 
mission that no other season had ever 
been quite so hard on men and beasts 
as this one. And for once the weather 
man agreed with the popular verdict. 

One storm followed another, piling 
the snow ever deeper, and each storm 
[46] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

was followed by a long drop in the 
thermometer, with a killing frost, that 
threatened the life of any creature not 
well protected. 

It was weather that certainly would 
have brought death to the little red 
doe had it not been for the coming of 
the great stag. The small yard she 
had made for herself would have been 
her grave, if she had been left to depend 
on her own efforts. She would either 
have frozen or starved in a very short 
time. Deer far stronger than she 
struggled with the drifts until their 
food was gone and their energy ex- 
hausted, and then gave their bodies to 
foxes or to the prowling lynx. 

The little doe felt that nature was 
especially cruel to the deer. Other 
[47] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

creatures were far more fortunate. She 
saw a flock of j uncos hopping about the 
trees, singing and playing, apparently 
finding all they wanted to eat. The 
chickadees, well protected, so fat that 
their coats seemed ready to burst, were 
shouting their satisfaction with life from 
a dozen branches, and the squirrels were 
sitting with their tails folded over their 
backs, shaking their little bodies and 
apparently laughing at the misfortune 
of the larger creatures who had been 
made prisoners by the snow. But there 
was nothing for the little doe to eat; 
not even water to drink. She must 
quench her thirst by eating the snow. 
The great stag seemed to feel the 
seriousness of the situation. He looked 
about him and saw there was no food. 
[48] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

His little mate had gathered all of the 
moss and every leaf within her reach. 
She had even nibbled the dry bark from 
the trunks of the trees to stop the gnaw- 
ing hunger pains. The stag, with the 
wild creature's instinct, knew that some- 
thing must be done quickly to save their 
lives. He plunged into the snow to 
break a path to new feeding grounds. 
The first jump took him into a deep 
drift that was over his head, and he had 
a long struggle to free himself. But 
again and again he lunged forward, 
beating down the snow so his mate 
could follow. 

The little doe stood in the yard, her 

eyes bulging with admiration at the 

strength and determination of her stag. 

She forgot about her weakness, even her 

[49] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

danger, as she watched him struggling, 
breaking a road toward other trees. 
He would fall over a log that was hidden 
in the snow, tumbling headlong into a 
deep drift; then he would find himself 
in a tangle of brush which would not 
only check his progress, but pierce his 
flesh. Again he would roll into a hole, 
sink out of sight, and finally emerge 
after heroic efforts, blinded by the snow 
that would fill his eyes and cling in great 
masses to his fur. No wonder the little 
doe watched in wonder and admiration. 
He was proving his affection by his 
actions, at least such was her feeling. 
His hard work, she was certain, was 
all for her. 

Other deer had also come to the 
marsh. It was the only place where 
[50] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

they could find anything whatever to 
eat. From every direction, through the 
cold, still air, could be heard the crack- 
ing of frozen sticks and branches, as the 
starving creatures tried to break a way 
to water and food. Not more than a 
hundred feet from the stag, four deer 
were working hard to make a way through 
the tangle. Singly and in companies, 
the famishing animals were fighting for 
their lives. Some of them, exhausted 
and too weak through lack of nourish- 
ment to struggle farther, lay down in the 
snow, never to rise again. Little by 
little the cold froze their veins, and they 
fell into a strange sleep from which 
there was no waking. 

The struggle continued for days, until 
the cedar swamp was a network of 
[51] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

paths running in every direction, lead- 
ing to fresh trees covered with moss, 
or by branches whose leaves were within 
reach of the deer. Does and stags were 
trotting wherever they could find a bit 
to stay their hunger, the stags forgetting 
their old jealousies in their fight for 
life, while the does, followed closely 
by their fawns, seemed to give no heed 
to their kingly suitors. 

But the great stag did not forget his 
little doe. He took no thought for 
himself and paid no attention to the 
large does that passed him many times 
during the day. He apparently had 
only one purpose, — to care for the one 
mate to whom he was so devoted. He 
led her to the best part of the swamp, 
where moss was abundant, and where 

[52] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

tender bushes projected above the snow, 
providing food that made a pleasant 
change from the bitter cedars. When 
other stags or does tried to enter his 
ground, he drove them away, keeping 
for his little mate the choicest dainties. 

After two weeks had passed, the 
happiest weeks in the life of the little 
red doe, the kingly stag walked toward 
her early one morning, rubbed her face 
gently with his nose, and gave her a 
good-by kiss before he started over the 
ridges. 

He must find another feeding ground. 
Every day he had reached higher on 
the trees for the tender leaves. There 
were only two places now where the little 
doe could nibble enough to stop the 
hunger pains. The winter was just 
[53] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

beginning, and in a few days there would 
be no food remaining for either of them. 
The stag was still strong and, with the 
wild creature's instinct to search for 
food, he started over the winding paths 
to discover some spot that had not yet 
been found by the moose or deer. 

He had not traveled more than half 
a mile when he came to a well-trodden 
road, showing the tracks of horses and 
men, and ruts worn by the frequent 
passing of sleds. It was scarcely yet 
light. The first gray streaks of the 
morning were just stealing over the dark 
line of spruce on the horizon. The 
lumbermen had not yet left their camp. 
Everything was quiet. Not even a bird 
was moving about in the trees. The 
stag raced forward, running partly to 
[54] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

drive the chill from his body, partly 
to reach a new country before the lum- 
bermen were abroad to disturb him. 

Suddenly, as he rounded a curve in 
the road, he found himself within a few 
yards of a camp. The smoke from the 
chimney was curling lazily in the crisp 
morning air. A few men were moving 
about, and their voices could be heard 
distinctly. Some of them were leading 
out horses and hitching them to sleds, 
while half a dozen others, with their 
axes thrown over their shoulders, were 
just starting for the woods. One of 
the cutters saw the big stag and rushed 
back to the cabin. 

The stag knew that he had been dis- 
covered and, fearing danger, he ran 
back on the road until he came to a well 
[55] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

trodden path, which he followed until he 
was securely hidden in the thick growth 
of spruce. 

In a few minutes he heard the men 
coming down the road. They were talk- 
ing in subdued voices and walking cau- 
tiously, so that only a sensitive ear 
like his could hear their moccasined 
feet on the snow. 

One of the men walked in advance 
of the others. He had a gun on his 
shoulder, and even in the dim light of 
the morning it glistened. Occasionally 
the man would stop and look down the 
road, especially when he came to a 
slight bend. Once he took the gun 
from his shoulder, and held it in his 
hands, as though he wanted to be ready 
to use it quickly. It was just at the 
[56] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

point where the road made a sharp 
curve, beyond which was a straight 
stretch, where he could see for a long 
distance. He tripped along on his toes 
and peeped around a tree as though he 
expected to see the stag. Then he saw 
where the wild creature had turned 
into the path and bounded into the 
forest. 

For a minute the man stood as though 
undecided whether to follow along the 
path or continue on his way to work. 
The stag stood without a motion, watch- 
ing every move the man made, ready to 
lunge forward and escape if he took a 
single step into the path. But finally 
the hunter took his gun from his 
shoulder, leaned it against a tree and, 
overtaken by the other woodsmen, 
[57] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

started along the road, pointing through 
the forest as though indicating the direc- 
tion taken by the deer. 

The stag remained in hiding, without 
changing his position. He was in a 
strange territory, and he was afraid to 
run, as he knew not where men might 
be. 

In a few minutes he heard a voice 
in the direction of the cabin. A man 
was alternately swearing at his horses 
and singing a French love song, both 
done in utmost good humor as though 
he enjoyed equally each performance. 
The stag could hear the thud of the 
horses' feet as they tramped over the 
snow, and he could also catch the creak- 
ing of the sled over the icy crust. An- 
other team followed quickly, its driver 
[58] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

apparently in the same good spirits. 
Then came a long silence. Evidently 
all the men had passed, and the sleds 
were following to bring the logs to the 
yards. 

The great stag did not know the 
meaning of all these strange noises, 
but when the stillness settled down over 
the woods, and the stag began to feel 
himself alone again, he looked about 
to determine which way to go. He 
did not dare to venture back on the road. 
Feeling certain that he would not be 
discovered so long as he kept in the 
thick spruce growth, he started down 
the trail that wound in and out among 
the trees, ever keeping in the heaviest 
part of the forest. The trail turned 
first one way and then another, but led 

[59] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

to no place that promised food. Still 
he followed it, not daring to risk the 
road again. 

The sound of an axe being driven into 
dry logs with a sharp thud that echoed 
over the hills caught his ear. It was 
only a short distance away, apparently 
straight ahead of him. He waited for 
a minute, threw his keen nose up, and 
sniffed to catch any scent that might 
bring him a message of danger. 

What a strange odor was on the morn- 
ing air! It was the scent of fresh, new 
hay. There were other things the stag 
had never smelled before, — potato par- 
ings, onion skins, and much other refuse 
thrown away by the cook. 

The stag was fascinated by what his 
nose and ears reported to him. The 
[60] 




He crept cautiously behind a heavy spruce. — Page 61. 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

sound of the axe continued with meas- 
ured stroke, and the rising breeze 
brought stronger whiffs from the gar- 
bage pile. He could not resist the 
temptation to creep closer. Slipping 
quietly along, careful not to make any 
noise on the snow crust, not to disturb 
a branch with his big antlers, he crept 
forward foot by foot until he could 
see a slight opening through the trees. 
The path led straight for the sound, 
and every step he took strengthened the 
scent that was drawing him on. He 
could scarcely restrain himself, so great 
was the desire to satisfy his curiosity. 
He crept cautiously behind a heavy 
spruce whose branches came down to 
the snow. The tree stood just at the 
edge of the clearing. What a sight 
[61] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

there was before him, — a long camp, 
sleds, logs piled high, a hovel, with some- 
thing about it that steamed in the 
frosty morning air, then a man swinging 
an axe, and smoke pouring from the 
chimney of the huge house. A little 
boy was hobbling about on crutches. 
Best of all, and the thing that held the 
attention of the stag, was the pile that 
gave forth the odor that had been so 
alluring. 

He had found it at last, food in abun- 
dance for his little doe, delicious things 
that were being wasted, when there 
were so many hungry creatures about 
the woods. But how could they reach 
it? The camp was filled with men, 
each one ready to kill any deer that 
came his way. Even more dangerous 
[62] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

was the dog with sharp eyes and a keen 
scent. He would detect the slightest 
motion in the brush and announce the 
presence of the starving deer to the 
hunters. He might also give chase, and 
in the deep snow overtake them and 
drag them down with his big, sharp 
teeth. 

As the stag, happy over his rich 
discovery, was considering how he could 
reach it and in safety lead his little doe 
to the abundant feast, he saw fresh 
tracks of deer that led along the path 
to the hovel. Other tracks told him 
that some of the wild creatures had 
only recently returned, so recently that 
no snowflakes had yet been blown into 
the prints they had left to tell of their 
passing. The secret was out; they had 
[63] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

come during the night, when the men 
were asleep and the dog was curled up 
close by the big fire. 

In the joy of his sudden discovery, 
the stag almost forgot to be cautious. 
He turned so quickly that his antlers 
rattled against some overhanging 
branches, and the snow crust crunched 
beneath his feet, a noise that disturbed 
the dog and caused him to run and 
bark as though he would warn his 
master of approaching danger. But the 
stag heeded not the challenge. He had 
found food that would save the life of 
his little doe, and he bounded joyfully 
along the trail at full speed to take back 
to her the glad news of his discovery. 



[64] 



CHAPTER V 

The little boy on crutches was Olaf 
Anderson. He had been busy feeding 
his friends, the chickadees, who came 
every morning to eat from his hands, 
and he was just beginning to win the 
confidence of a junco when he heard his 
dog bark, and saw him rush along the 
path toward the woods. 

"Come here, you naughty Eli! 
Don't you know we are all friends 
in these woods. No one chases deer 
here except old Bill Davies and his 
cur." 

The dog seemed to understand the 
rebuke of his little master, and he crept 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

back to his side as though he would 
apologize for his forgetfulness. 

The great stag heard the boy's voice 
and hurried his pace; jumping two or 
three logs that were in his way, and 
holding his w T hite tail erect, he bounded 
along, fearful that he was being pursued. 

He soon found himself on the road 
again. All was still ; there was no sound 
of men or teams. He listened for the 
bark of the dog or the crunching of feet 
that might be following on his trial. 
There was nothing to break the great 
forest hush except the ripping of trees, 
torn apart by the frost, or snow falling 
with soft thuds from the spruce branches 
which were gently swaying in the wind. 

His first impulse was to bound out 
on the icy road and race back to the 
[66] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

little doe. But he knew the danger 
of the woods, especially the road-ways of 
the lumberjacks. Any turn might bring 
him face to face with a man. Then 
there was the gun. He had seen it 
glistening in the morning light, and any 
minute it might belch out thunder and 
lightning, leaving death in their path. 
Caution was the stag's first law. Only 
unceasing vigilance would save his life. 
He had been taught this from the hour 
he was born, and it had become a part 
of his nature. 

Hence, much as he desired to reach 
his mate, possibly even then nibbling the 
bitter cedar tips to stay the pangs of 
hunger, he turned back on his trail to 
wait until the men were all asleep in 
the camp and darkness covered the road. 
[67] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

He had not traveled far when he 
discovered the fresh tracks of deer, a 
huge buck, some does, and a fawn. 
Through idle curiosity he followed, step- 
ping lightly and keeping as much as pos- 
sible in the wind that he might not be 
discovered. The tracks indicated that 
the stag was an unusually large one. 
He might be in a fighting mood and, 
not seeking a battle, our stag did not 
wish to be discovered. 

He had gone only a short distance 
when he found the path beginning to 
divide. Other paths led in every direc- 
tion in a bewildering network, crossing 
and recrossing without any apparent 
purpose. The stag knew he was enter- 
ing a yard where large numbers of deer 
were spending the winter. It was not 
[68] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

more than a mile from the lumber 
camp, and the deer had chosen this 
spot that they might be near the gar- 
bage pile. Here they remained in hid- 
ing through the day, stealing forth at 
night when the men were asleep. 

But it soon became clear that the 
advantage was not all on the side of the 
deer. Their blessings were not unmixed 
with sorrow. The stag came suddenly 
upon a spot of blood in the snow. At 
one side of the path he saw the head of 
a doe, cut from the neck close to the 
base of the skull. Tracks in the snow 
showed clearly where foxes had de- 
voured the remains left by the hunter. 
The lumbermen had discovered the yard, 
so handy to the camp, and here they 
had come for fresh meat. A little 
[69] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

farther along was another sign of slaugh- 
ter, — this time a buck who had not yet 
shed his antlers. The deer were paying 
a heavy toll for their luxury, fattening 
on the lumber camp, only that they in 
turn might fatten the hungry men. 

The sight of blood made the stag 
tremble. He had left the road to avoid 
danger, and now he was in the very 
slaughter-pen of the woods. Every 
nerve in his body tingled with excite- 
ment. He threw his antlered head high 
that he might survey the surrounding 
country, while his nostrils flared wide 
to catch any telltale scent the wind 
might bring. His eyes glow T ed with ex- 
citement. He had fought the storms, 
starvation, thirst, fought not only for 
himself but for his mate. Now he was 
[70] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

facing even more cruel foes, — the keen 
eye of man and his deadly weapons. 
He realized the danger which came 
from walking about the paths. The 
hunter might be in ambush, waiting 
behind any tree to kill. The stag looked 
for a hiding-place, for thick brush where 
he could conceal himself. Not far away 
was a growth of low, scrubby spruce, 
matted in a tangle that a man could 
not easily penetrate. Into this the stag 
crept to conceal himself, lying down 
on some green, spreading bushes that 
would protect him from the cold snow. 
Here the creature felt safe. He could 
not be seen, and no man would follow 
through such a matted mass of prickly 
briars and spruce needles. The warm 
sun poured down on his body, sending 
[71] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

through him a feeling of comfort, mak- 
ing him forget his troubles and even his 
anxiety. In a few minutes he was half 
asleep, glad to rest in preparation for 
the work that was before him. 

He had probably been dreaming for 
an hour when he was suddenly awakened 
by the baying of a dog. The sound 
was not far away, and seemed to come 
from the spot where the trail led from 
the logging road into the woods. The 
stag felt that the cruel beast was on his 
track, and was probably the very dog 
that had barked at him in the camp. 
The proud animal jumped to his feet 
and stood ready for battle. One strong 
blow from his hoof would drive the dog 
into the snow, or cause him to return 
yelping to his master. 
[72] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

The sound of the dog came nearer, 
every bark indicating that the pursuer 
was hot on the trail. The stag listened 
to detect any crunching of snowshoes 
on the crust. The wind was blowing 
in the wrong direction to bring any 
scent to his sensitive nose, but he trusted 
his ears. There was no sound of man, 
and the stag felt sure the dog was alone. 
He determined to stand his ground, make 
resistance, and annihilate, if possible, 
the enemy of the deer. 

In a few seconds, the hound appeared 
on the trail. His nose was close to the 
snow, following from one track to the 
next, and with each fresh scent, he 
opened his mouth and gave a howl that 
made the hills echo and caused the blood 
of the stag to run hot with rage. 
[73] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

When the hound reached the spot 
where the stag had walked about the 
blood stains, tramping from one path 
to another, he became bewildered. The 
tracks led in every direction, confusing 
him. He ceased howling and ran about, 
trying to pick up the trail where it led 
on through the woods. At one time 
he appeared discouraged and was about 
to turn back, then he made wide 
circles, first on one side of the trail, then 
on the other. Suddenly he came to 
the fresh track the stag had made 
when entering his hiding-place. The 
dog threw his head into the air and 
gave another howl, as though he would 
warn his master that the deer was not 
far away. Then came a series of deep, 
prolonged bays, wild and bloodthirsty, 
[74] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

that made the stag tremble with anger, 
made him forget all danger in the an- 
ticipation of battle. He stepped from 
the brush that he might have greater 
freedom in the fight. 

At sight of him, the dog increased his 
barking, and each cry seemed louder 
than the last. 

The stag waited for him to charge, 
prepared to deliver a stinging blow. 
But the hound, seeing that the deer 
intended to fight, ran back a few feet, 
and continued to howl. The stag made 
a wild rush, trying to close with his 
enemy, for he knew that delay meant 
danger. Could he only have known 
that old Bill Davies was hurrying on his 
snowshoes to reach the scene! But the 
dog had no idea of attacking his an- 
[75] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

tagonist. He was old Bill's mongrel cur, 
the blood of the coward in his veins, 
never willing to fight unless he was sure 
of victory. At every charge the stag 
made, the cur would run back, his tail 
between his legs, until he knew that he 
was at a safe distance, when he would 
turn again and bark. 

The stag saw that the dog would not 
fight. He knew, also, that such loud 
barking might bring a man to the spot, 
and he was just turning to trot away 
when he saw Bill Davies step from 
behind a tree. The stag whirled on his 
hind feet, but it was too late. Old 
Bill brought his gun quickly to his 
shoulder and fired while the stag was 
still in the act of turning. The forest 
rang with the deafening sound. The 
[76] 




Old Bill fired while the stag was still in the act of turning. 

— Page 76. 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

stag felt a frightful pain, gave one long 
plunge to escape his enemy, then fell 
a lifeless mass in the snow. 

Little Olaf Anderson, who was feeding 
his birds, heard the report. The chicka- 
dees and the j uncos must have heard it 
also, as they darted from the presence of 
their friend and hid themselves in the 
trees. One chickadee was resting on 
the little cripple's finger, eating bread 
crumbs from his lips, but the report 
caused the bird to hop away to the 
nearest log. 

"Chickie, don't be afraid. It is old 
Bill Davies, but Olaf won't let him hurt 

you." 

Then turning to his dog, he exclaimed : 
"Eli, you ought to be ashamed to chase 
the deer. See what company you are in." 

[77] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

The dog seemed to understand. He 
crouched a little lower, hiding his face 
between his paws, as though ashamed. 

The little doe also heard the shot 
across the cedar swamp, a faint, sharp 
report. She had heard these many 
times during the past month, but they 
never failed to send through her a shud- 
der of fear. This one made her even 
more anxious, for her stag was some- 
where in the woods, looking for a fresh 
feeding ground. What could she do 
if any harm should come to him? He 
was the one bright spot in her life, the 
only creature who had ever cared for 
her, that had ever taken any interest 
in her. 

Already it was time for him to return. 
He had left early in the morning, and 
[78] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

with the lumbermen abroad in the woods, 
no wise deer would risk his life by wan- 
dering through the forest. In the day- 
time there was only one place of safety, 
— the dense swamps. Hitherto the 
little doe had been waiting patiently, 
but the report of the gun aroused her 
anxiety. She walked to the edge of 
the swamp and looked out in the hope 
that she might see him coming down 
one of the paths. All day she walked 
back and forth, listening for his foot- 
steps on the snow. All other deer were 
in their hiding-places, but she risked 
her life that she might watch for him. 
The sun was sinking behind the hills, 
and the tinkling of the bells on the horses 
could be heard as the men and teams 
made their way toward camp. The 
[79] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

cold, piercing, night air was beginning 
to penetrate the thin coat of the little 
doe. Still there was no sign of the 
stag! His absence increased her suffer- 
ing, as she finally crawled into a thick 
growth of brush to find protection from 
the wind, and to wait for an answer to 
her troubles. 



[80] 



CHAPTER VI 

Eric Anderson, a fat, good-natured 
Swede, known through all the lumber 
camps about Patten, was one of the most 
popular cooks who ever went into the 
woods. The very title given him, "Old 
Eric/ 5 was an expression of the affec- 
tionate favor in which he was held. 
Not only was he a good cook; he was 
possessed of a happy nature that was 
constantly bubbling over, keeping the 
crews in the best of spirits, and helping 
to break the monotonous life of the 
lumber camp by merry laughter and 
constant joking. 

When Olaf was only a boy of ten, 
[81] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

Eric had taken him into the camp 
where he was to spend the winter. 
Father and son were inseparable, and 
though it was against the rules for a cook 
to take his family into the woods, Eric 
announced when he was sought for the 
job that the contract included the boy 
or nothing. The jolly cook was too valu- 
able to be lost over the enforcement of 
a rule, and Olaf went with his father 
to live with the woodsmen. 

The little fellow 7 added a human touch 
to the camp life, which made the log 
cabins seem more like a home. From 
the day of his arrival, he was a favo- 
rite with the men. He made them 
forget themselves, and gave them an 
object on which they could bestow their 
affections, 

[82] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

His favorite playground was in the 
yard where the logs were piled on the 
bank of the river, waiting for the spring 
drive. His favorite game was playing 
foreman, and so thoroughly did he enter 
into the sport that he soon imagined 
himself the boss of the camp. Even 
the teamsters caught the contagion of 
his enthusiasm, and they seldom came 
into the yard with a load without calling 
to him for directions. 

One day he was especially active, 
jumping from one log to another, giving 
his orders with the confidence of an older 
head, when a sled hit one of the lower 
logs of the pile where he w r as standing, 
and they all came tumbling to the 
ground. Little Olaf was on the top, 
and before he could jump, he was caught 
[83] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

between two logs and hurled under the 
falling mass. 

No one thought he would be taken 
out alive. A huge log lay across his 
body. Both legs were crushed, and one 
arm was broken. ~ He was unconscious, 
and hours after being taken to the camp, 
the men watched over him with aching 
hearts, every minute expecting to see 
him breathe his last. 

Little by little the boy struggled back 
to life, but his legs were badly crushed. 
The bones were splintered, and there 
was no hope that he would ever walk 
again. The generous gifts of the men 
made it possible to send him to the 
best physicians, but even these skilled 
surgeons could do nothing for him. 
When he returned to Patten, he was on 
[84] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

crutches which were to remain with 
him for life. 

Still the logs had not crushed out his 
sunny disposition, and his father, bound 
even more closely to the crippled son 
by the affection born of suffering, still 
took him each winter into the woods. 
He was not only the idol of the lum- 
berjacks; he was the friend of the wild 
creatures. 

Not a single man in the camp had ever 
given a thought to the birds, except as 
he had stopped to hurl a stone at a 
noisy jay or to snare a partridge that 
had come to the places where the horses 
were fed to pick up a few seeds left on 
the snow. Their chief recreation on 
Sundays had been shooting the red 
squirrels that came about the camp for 
[85] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

food, fortunately seldom hitting one, 
the result of their poor marksmanship 
rather than their merciful purposes. 

But Olaf had brought a new spirit 
toward the wild creatures into the camp. 
lie was not only a friend but a compan- 
ion to the birds. When the wildest of 
the feathered creatures saw him come 
from the cabin, it was the signal for 
their gathering. Chickadees and juncos 
hopped around him as a brood of chickens 
flock about the one who gives them their 
evening corn or meal. He had even 
gained the confidence of a flock of snow- 
buntings that came every morning to 
be fed on the seeds that Olaf kept espe- 
cially for them. On a dozen trees he had 
tied large pieces of fat for the jays. 
Nuts and quantities of prunes were 
[86] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

placed where the red squirrels could 
help themselves. Even their greed, 
which caused them to waste their food 
or hide it for future use, did not cause 
Olaf to forget the noisy, quarrelsome 
creatures. 

The men who loved the little cripple 
soon came to love his pets. Pistols 
were left in the camp, so that the timid 
creatures would not be frightened by 
the shots. The men spent their Sun- 
days with Olaf, each lumberjack trying 
to coax some timid bird to rest on his 
shoulder; and the one who could per- 
suade a chickadee to perch on his finger 
and eat bread from his mouth reported 
the triumph with more pride than he 
had felt formerly w T hen he succeeded 
in shooting a squirrel. The entire camp 
[87] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

became a voluntary society for the pro- 
tection of the wild creatures. 

The little doe, however, was faring 
hard. Her stag had not returned. She 
had waited patiently, but there had been 
no sound of his foot. Despair filled 
her heart. Once more she was alone, 
with no one to care for her, no one to 
break the trails, or lead her to new 
feeding grounds. 

Food was scarce when the stag left 
her, and each day it grew less. The 
little doe had to reach high upon the 
trees for what few twigs remained. 
Once she tried to break a new path, 
but the attempt was useless. Her stiff 
leg was too great a handicap. When 
she sank in the fresh, unbroken snow, 
she could not free herself. Her stiff 
[88] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

leg went down in it like a pole and 
made her a prisoner. 

There was only one hope. She might 
venture on the logging roads and gather 
moss from the logs or nibble the tree- 
tops that were within her reach. But 
this was a serious choice. It would 
expose her to the men who were felling 
the trees, and might mean her death. 

Yet when hunger pains gnaw with 
their sharp teeth, the wild creatures 
will risk even life for food, and the little 
doe was no exception. She must have 
something to eat, and early one morn- 
ing, long before the men were on their 
way to work, she hobbled along a well 
beaten path, out to the road, to search 
for something that would stay her 
hunger. 

[89] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

The day before, a gang of French 
Canadians had been cutting some spruce 
whose branches were covered with a 
light gray moss, like the silver-gray hair 
that hangs from the head of age. It was 
strewn over the snow, some of it in the 
road, and still more clinging to branches 
that were within easy reach. Truly 
it was a banquet for the little doe, a 
delightful contrast to the bitter cedar 
tips. She had eaten nothing with such 
flavor for weeks. It was a treat that 
caused her to forget danger, to take no 
notice of the fact that the sun was 
rising over the hills, and even fail to 
realize that the men would soon be 
returning to their work. To increase 
her pleasure, she found a small bundle 
of hay a teamster had left after feeding 
[90] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

his horses, sweet meadow hay that was 
like sugar to her taste. 

Before she knew what danger con- 
fronted her, she heard voices, then the 
steps of men. She was so frightened 
that she plunged into the snow and fell 
over some logs. The men rushed to- 
ward her, and before she could struggle 
up, she found herself surrounded by 
great stalwart creatures, each with an 
axe thrown over his shoulder. She 
exerted every ounce of her energy to 
free herself from the tangle, but the 
harder she labored, the more helpless 
she seemed. The men took the axes 
from their shoulders, a procedure that 
made her heart beat faster with fear. 
She thought the cruel, sharp things 
were going to descend on her head. 
[91] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

One of the men plunged into the snow 
by her side and threw his strong arms 
around her neck. To struggle then was 
useless. She felt as though she were in 
a vise: she could not move. He threw 
his whole weight against her and, see- 
ing that she could not escape, she ceased 
to struggle, waiting quietly for the ex- 
pected blow. Seconds seemed like hours. 
Her great, innocent eyes flashed with 
fear. Still the blow did not come. 
Instead, she felt his hand stroking her 
fur, and her ear caught sounds that 
seemed to be friendly. Could she have 
fully understood the words, her heart 
would have beat with joy. Yet the 
poor creature with no language except 
that of a cry felt that the man might 
be her protector. 

[92] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

His great, muscular arms were placed 
beneath her body and she felt herself 
being drawn from the snow, lifted gen- 
tly, and placed in the road. Then, as 
though the man would reassure her, he 
placed his brown, sunburned cheek 
against her head, patted her lovingly, 
and talked to her again. One man 
after another came closer, reached out 
his hand, and added his stroke of assur- 
ance. Then the man who had lifted 
her from the tangle released his hold, 
and she found that she was free. But 
a strange change had come over her. 
She no longer wanted to run away, she 
had no more fear. She turned, reached 
out her nose, and smelled one man 
after another. Then she rubbed against 
the one who had been so kind, as 
[93] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

though she wanted to express her grati- 
tude. 

All that morning the little doe re- 
mained in sight of the woodsmen, as 
they swung their axes and felled the 
trees. Occasionally one of the choppers, 
when he found a delicious morsel of 
moss, would throw it near w r here she 
stood, for she was not yet quite courage- 
ous enough to eat from their hands. 
The teamsters contributed bits of hay 
from their sleds, and one man tossed 
her an apple he had been saving for his 
dinner. 

It was all strange to the little doe! 
She could not understand it, could not 
comprehend, especially, what had oc- 
curred in her own nature. A few hours 
ago she had been a wild deer. The 

[94] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

least scent of man would have made a 
quiver dart through her body and caused 
her to run for her life, while the sight 
of him or the sound of his voice would 
have made her heart beat fast with 
fear. Now everything had changed. 
She loved the sight of the men. Their 
company was a delight to her, and their 
kindness was so great that she almost 
forgot the cruel winter and her troubles. 
She dreaded to hobble back to the 
swamp, and when evening came, and 
men and teams started down the road 
toward the camp, she followed them a 
long distance. She stopped only when 
another deer bounded across the road 
and plunged into the brush. The ap- 
pearance of this deer seemed to bring 
the little red doe back to her old self. 
[95] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

She hesitated a minute, and looked 
about to see what secret thing was in 
hiding. Her wild instincts suddenly re- 
turned in full force; for a second she 
was mastered by them, and hobbled 
back to the swamp. 



[96] 



CHAPTER VII 

The next morning, long before the 
fire was started in the huge kitchen 
stove, and while the dim light of the 
dawn was still shut from the cabin by 
the heavy coating of frost on the win- 
dow panes, Olaf Anderson crawled from 
his bunk, hurriedly dressed himself, and 
hobbled out on his crutches to feed his 
birds. Some of them were already wait- 
ing for him, and others soon flew from 
the trees to receive their breakfast. 

Olaf had passed a wakeful night. The 
story of the little doe had touched him 
deeply, and he could not rest comfort- 
ably when he thought of the wild crea- 
[97] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

ture suffering in the deep snow. Even 
while he was asleep, he was dreaming 
of her. Several times during the night, 
he had awakened suddenly and found 
himself sitting up in bed ready to hasten 
to her relief. 

Long before the men had fed their 
horses and were ready for breakfast, 
he had given the birds their food, placed 
some bread and prunes under the win- 
dow for the squirrels, and was waiting 
for the first sled to start for the logs 
that he might go seek the little doe. 

There was much excitement among 
the men. Breakfasts were hastily eaten, 
the teams harnessed, and the entire 
camp, even including the foreman and 
men of the yards, started out to find the 
little doe. All w T ere in holiday mood, 
[98] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

except Old Eric, who had to remain at 
the cabin to prepare the midday meal. 

Olaf was on the first sled, bracing 
himself with his crutches that he might 
not be thrown into the snow. Keen 
eyes watched each turn in the road, 
and a silence rested over the entire 
group, so that the little doe might not 
be frightened away. 

"I left some hay for her around the 
next bend," whispered the driver to 
Olaf. "She may be there." 

The little cripple struggled on his 
crutches to an upright position, where 
he could look ahead of the horses. He 
was supported by two men that he 
might not fall. All were eagerly watch- 
ing as they turned the point w 7 here they 
expected to find the doe, but there was 
[99] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

no sign of her. The driver stopped his 
team that he might listen for any 
noise to reveal her presence. 

Fifty yards or more away, in the brush, 
there was a sound of something strug- 
gling in the snow. One of the men gave 
a bleat, hoping to call the little red doe 
from her hiding-place, but there was no 
response. 

"Some one has been here on snow- 
shoes/' said the teamster, as he pointed 
to the tracks leading in the direction 
of the sound. 

"Old Bill Davies has been after a 
deer/ 5 replied Olaf, the blood flushing 
his face as he contemplated the possi- 
bilities. Indignation filled his soul. 

The teamster sprang from his sled 
and followed the tracks into the woods. 
[100] 




" We must take her out and care for her wounds." — Page 101. 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

The men ran after him, while Olaf held 
the reins and waited anxiously for the 
woodsmen to bring back their report. 

In a few minutes two of them re- 
turned, their faces white with rage, 
and took the little cripple in their arms 
to carry him to their discovery. 

The little doe was down and helpless. 
Her eyes were flashing in fear, and her 
sides were heaving under labored breath- 
ing from the long struggle. One leg 
was held in a huge bear-trap, and the 
snow around was covered with blood. 

"Old Bill Davies set his trap last 
night in the trail where the deer go out 
to the road/' declared the teamster. 

"The beast!" exclaimed Olaf. "We 
must take her out and care for her 
wounds." 

[101] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

"It is her good leg that is in the trap/' 
added the teamster. "But I don't think 
it is broken. She is caught by the foot." 

As they approached the little doe, she 
gave a few frantic struggles to free 
herself, as though she could not trust 
even her friends, and then, seeing that 
she was helpless, she fell back again and 
resigned herself to her fate. She looked 
at the men with her great eyes as though 
to plead for mercy, to beseech them to 
spare her life. 

The rough lumberjacks, schooled in 
kindness toward the wild creatures by 
Olaf, were touched by her helplessness, 
and they walked quietly toward her. 
One man cut a long pole to spring the 
strong trap, while the others stroked 
her head to reassure her. 
[1021 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

"Half of her foot is cut away by the 
teeth of the trap/' exclaimed the team- 
ster, as he examined her wound. "The 
rest of the foot is all right. She will 
be able to walk." 

"We must take her to the camp and 
care for her," decided Olaf. "Care- 
ful, little doe I We are not going to 
hurt you." 

The great springs were pressed down, 
and the cruel jaws of the trap fell apart, 
leaving her hoof free. She struggled 
to her feet, but showed no inclination 
to run away. The teamster had his 
arms around her neck, expecting her 
to plunge into the woods. But she 
made no effort to escape. She snuggled 
close to him, as though he were her 
last hope. She looked into his face as 
[103] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

though imploring protection, while Olaf 
reached forth his hands to pet her wet 
and ragged coat of fur. 

When she had ceased to tremble with 
fear and pain, a strong lumberjack took 
her in his arms and carried her back to 
the sled. Some hay was placed over 
the rough boards to make a soft bed, 
while two men held her that she might 
not jump and do herself further harm, 
and the driver turned back to the camp 
with the little sufferer. 

One of the stalls in the horse-sheds 
was thickly bedded with straw, — a stall 
that opened toward the south, where 
the warm sun could warm her shivering 
body. Her foot was washed with hot 
water to free it from all rust from the 
old trap, and then carefully bandaged 
[104] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

to keep out the dirt. A bundle of sweet 
clover hay was placed within her reach, 
and then she was left by herself to rest. 
Little Olaf came often to peep through 
the door and see that she was comfort- 
able, but he was careful not to awaken 
her from her sleep. 

Late in the afternoon he found her 
nibbling the hay and, slipping into the 
stall, he gave her a handful of salt. 
She reached forth her nose, smelled his 
hand, and then lapped the salt as eagerly 
as a boy would devour a handful of 
chocolates. 

"Poor little deer! But don't you 
mind. You still have your legs, and 
you won't have to use crutches," 
said Olaf, as he gently stroked her 
neck. 

[105] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

The little doe seemed to understand, 
and she came closer to him as though 
she would express her sympathy for 
the cripple and thank him for his kind- 
ness. 



[106] 



CHAPTER VIII 

After the foot of the little red doe 
healed, she soon became the favorite 
of Olaf s pets. He did not forget his 
birds or squirrels, but there was some- 
thing about the deer that made her 
appear almost human. She seemed to 
understand him better than the other 
creatures, and she was more generous 
in the bestowal of her affections. The 
birds came because they wanted food, 
and when their appetites were satisfied, 
they would fly away to the woods, 
leaving Olaf alone. The quarrelsome 
squirrels would take his food, sneaking 
it as though they thought they were 
[107] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

stealing, and then scamper away, chat- 
tering and scolding for some reason 
which the boy could never understand. 
But the little doe was always about 
the camp, always affectionate and seek- 
ing Olaf s company. When he was sit- 
ting on a log, she would lie down at his 
feet, reach out her nose, and invite 
him to pet her. She would follow him 
into the cabins and patiently wait for 
him to eat his dinner; then she would 
tempt him into the yard for an hour of 
frolic. Olaf came to look upon her as 
his playmate, a want keenly felt by 
the little cripple living far away from 
other boys in the loneliness of the great 
woods. 

She was equally loved by the lumber- 
jacks, who would entice the little doe 
[108] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

into the woods, where she would play 
about them as they cut the trees, and 
frolic before the teams on the logging 
roads. Many times these rough men 
would stop their work to discuss some 
trait of the little deer, and the man 
who could tell the story of the greatest 
attention from her quickly excited the 
envy of his fellows. 

Gradually the little doe began to 
take excursions by herself, following the 
deer paths through the marshes. Each 
time she ventured farther, spying out 
some place where the wild creatures had 
tramped out hard paths in their search 
for food. 

Early one morning, long before the 
men were astir about the camp, there 
came over her a desire to be free again, 
[109] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

to live once more the unhampered life 
of the great woods. ** It was the same 
feeling that had urged her when she 
left her mother, a passion that was 
irresistible. She slipped from her warm 
bed in the stall and hobbled down the 
road. The first streaks of the morning 
were just touching the east. The air 
was sharp with frost, clear and cold as 
starlight. It set her blood tingling 
through her body, bringing to her a 
strange and gleeful mood of freedom. 
She was now hampered by an imperfect 
foot as well as by a stiff shoulder. Still 
she forgot these handicaps in the joy 
of the life-giving air. 

Olaf called for her, as was his custom, 
when he came from the cabin. The 
birds hurried to him, but there was no 
[no] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

response from the little doe. He 
hobbled on his crutches to her bed, 
but it was empty. He saw her tracks 
leading down the road, and he whistled 
louder to make her hear. Still she did not 
come, and after feeding his birds, he re- 
turned to the cabin to eat his breakfast. 
At noon she had not returned, and 
when the men came from their work 
in the evening there had been no sign 
of her. The lumberjacks, quite as anx- 
ious over her absence as the crippled 
boy, started in different directions to 
seek her. Old Eric followed her tracks 
until they were lost in the many foot- 
prints in the deer paths. Then he turned 
down toward the swamp until he came 
out on a deserted road, one that had 
not been used all winter by the sleds, 
[111] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

but was packed hard by the frequent 
passing of the deer. 

Suddenly, only a short distance ahead 
of him, came the crack of a rifle. A little 
deer bounded into the road, staggered 
and fell, but struggled quickly to its 
feet and trotted away. It hobbled on 
three legs. The other dangled help- 
lessly by its side. 

Old Eric looked at the track. It was 
the print of the little red doe. 

Already the sun was below the hills. 
The last glow of the evening was melt- 
ing into the clouds that filled the upper 
darkness. Night was coming in the 
dense forest; yet Old Eric followed on. 
The trail was easily marked by the red 
stains in the snow. It led over the 
hill to the great swamp beyond. 
[112] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

Old Eric pushed along until he saw three 
does standing as guards over the sufferer. 
Then he saw the little red doe rise from her 
hiding-place, lame and tortured with pain, 
to hobble into the great swamp beyond. 
She would rather die alone in the cold snow 
than put her trust again in man. 

The old cook turned back toward 
the camp. His happy mood had van- 
ished. He had beheld the slaying of 
the playmate of his little Olaf . 

Before Eric could reach camp, the 
snow was falling so fast that he could 
scarcely find his way. The other men 
had given up their search, and were 
patiently waiting for his return. Long 
before he spoke a word, they read the 
story in his face. They knew some- 
thing had happened to Olaf s pet, 
[113] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

While he rehearsed the story of the 
tragedy, the men listened with angry 
faces. Then first one and another, 
turning to the cabin, swore vengeance 
on Old Bill Da vies, setting aside the 
next day as the hour of wrath. 

All night the wind howled about the 
cabins. When there was a moment's 
lull, the lumberjacks could hear the sobs 
of little Olaf or the hoarse cough of Old 
Eric, which told that none were sleep- 
ing. The snow beat on the window 
panes, piling in drifts that soon shut 
out the night. The dog walked from 
one bunk to another, smelling the men, 
as though he knew that something was 
wrong, something was stealing sleep away. 

The next morning the wind was still 
raging, and the snow covered the cabins. 
[114] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

The trees were burdened with a weight 
that bent their branches to the earth, 
and it was a long, tiresome task to dig 
a path to the horses. 

When the men gathered at breakfast, 
there was a hush about the tables. 
Little Olaf s eyes were red, and Old Eric 
served the food with a reserve which 
told that his mind was not on his work. 

All day the storm continued and 
the next, until hills and valleys could 
scarcely be distinguished. Every hollow 
in the woods was filled with snow. The 
roads could be followed only by the 
open space through the forest where 
the trees had been cut. Men and beasts 
were made prisoners by the greatest 
blizzard that had swept over the north- 
ern woods for years. 

[115] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

When the storm finally broke, and 
the sun came out to reveal a fairy world, 
every tree laden with a wealth of white 
blossoms, the whole earth dazzling with 
a flash of diamonds, there was no thought 
of work. There was only one task in 
the mind of any man. Old Bill Davies 
must be driven from the woods. He had, 
to their minds, committed murder, and 
each man was a self-appointed officer 
of the law. Each man knew his task, 
and was ready to assume his responsi- 
bility for vengeance. 

Tying on their snowshoes, buckling 
their pistols in their belts, or throwing 
their rifles over their shoulders, they 
started in single file over the unbroken 
snow. Old Eric led the way, only little 
Olaf remaining behind. He stood in 
[116] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

the doorway of the cabin, waving a 
farewell as they rounded a curve in 
the road and were lost from sight. 

The very tread of the men, — slow, 
deliberate, like climbers ascending an 
Alpine peak, — told that they w T ere on 
serious business. No man broke the 
step or turned to look back on the trail. 
They were heading straight for Old Bill 
Davies' cabin, taking the road he must 
have followed on his return after he 
had shot the little red doe. 

Eric suddenly stopped, and each man 
halted to listen. There was the strange, 
weird baying of a dog a few rods ahead of 
them, a lonely howl as from a dog lost 
in the woods. 

The line moved forward again in 
the direction of the sound. Then, in 
[117] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

an open field of snow, they saw old 
Bill Davies' cur. He was sitting in 
the snow, his head lifted high and his 
great mouth open, his harsh voice rend- 
ing the forest stillness. 

When the cur saw the men, he rushed 
toward them, floundering through the 
snow ; then he rushed back again to the 
spot where he had been sitting. This 
action he repeated several times until 
the men thought the dog had gone mad. 

Out of curiosity, Old Eric finally fol- 
lowed the cur, who led him to the foot 
of a large pine. The sides of the tree 
were charred, showing where a fresh fire 
had burned the bark. The dog thrust 
his nose into the snow and sniffed ; then 
he lifted his head again and gave a 
howl that made the hills echo. 
[118] 



THE LITTLE RED DOE 

The men looked grave, but not a 
word was spoken. Each man seemed 
to divine the secret, but not one ven- 
tured to voice it. Finally Old Eric 
cut a tree and then hacked from it a 
board that served as a spade. He had 
not dug far down in the snow before he 
touched something that made him stop 
his work. He looked at the men, but 
no one asked a question; they under- 
stood. Then he threw the snow back 
in its place and turned away. The 
storm by its own law had claimed Old 
Bill Davies that night before he had 
reached his cabin ; the same storm that 
had buried the little red doe had de- 
stroyed her slayer. 



[119] 



l ibra r 




